The Face on the Mountain

Faith begins not with an argument but with astonishment — the discovery that being with Jesus makes life incredibly beautiful. That is the knowledge Lent is asking us to seek.
— Julián Carrón
The Face on the Mountain
Julián Carrón

Julián Carrón - The Face on the Mountain: What Tabor Shows Us About the Knowledge That Changes Everything.

We began our Lenten journey with a specific goal: "To grow in the knowledge of the mystery of Christ," as the opening prayer of the first Sunday put it. But what kind of knowledge are we talking about? Not abstract knowledge — a collection of definitions or concepts to memorize. Today's Gospel shows us plainly what it actually is: knowledge that comes from experience.

Jesus takes Peter, James, and John with him, leads them up a high mountain, and shows them his glory — the splendor of his truth. Before their eyes, his face shines like the sun and his clothes become white as light. Jesus doesn't explain his divine nature; he shows them who the Man they follow every single day really is.

Peter's reaction tells us everything: "Lord, it is good for us to be here!" That is the response of someone who has found what his heart was made for. When Reality corresponds to our deepest desires, we want time to stand still. Peter wants to build three tents because that beauty has won him over completely. This is where faith begins — with the astonishment of discovering that being with Jesus makes life incredibly beautiful. And he wants that moment to never end.

But there is something even deeper at work. A luminous cloud envelops the disciples, and a voice comes from the cloud: "This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased. Listen to him." The one they see transfigured is not simply a great prophet or an exceptional teacher — he is the Son, the Beloved of the Father. The whole of who Jesus is gets revealed in that instant. And the invitation to "listen to him" is the secret to keeping that light alive even after they come back down the mountain.

The disciples fall facedown, seized by awe. It is the fear of those who have glimpsed something infinitely greater than themselves. "But Jesus came and touched them and said, 'Get up and do not be afraid.' When they looked up, they saw no one but Jesus alone." The Father has spoken, glory has appeared — and in the end, He remains: the Son made man, who walks with them, touches them, and descends the mountain with them.

Only in the light of Tabor do we grasp the true nature of Abraham's gesture, which we heard about in the first reading. God says to him: "Leave your country... and go to the land that I will show you." Why would a man walk away from everything — his land, his family, his security — for such an apparently open-ended directive? Abraham does it because he has intuited the weight of the initiative that the Mystery has taken with him. His response will generate a people — so he is promised — and through that people, a blessing for "all the families of the earth" that has come all the way down to us.

If Abraham left everything behind for a voice from the Mystery, how much more are we being called to do the same — we, to whom the face of that mysterious Lord has been revealed: the Beloved Son, who died and rose again, who conquered death and made life blaze forth?

This is exactly what happened to Paul — a son of Abraham, of the same people — who, upon encountering the risen Christ, made his entire life a testimony to what he had seen. Writing to Timothy, he reminds us that God "has saved us and called us with a holy calling, not according to our works, but according to his own purpose and grace. This was given to us in Christ Jesus from eternity, but it has now been revealed with the manifestation of our Savior Jesus Christ, who conquered death and made life and incorruptibility shine forth through the Gospel."

The same dynamism that moved Abraham and transformed Paul is still alive today, passing from generation to generation, from heart to heart — and today it passes through us. This grace has not been given to us for ourselves alone; it was given for everyone, just as it was for Abraham. If we say yes to it, our lives will become a blessing for everyone we meet.

Second Sunday of Lent - Year A - Notes from the homily by Fr. Julián Carrón March 1, 2026

(First reading: Gen 12:1-4a; Psalm: 32 (33); Second reading: 2 Tim 1:8b-10; Gospel: Mt 17:1-9)

Julián Carrón

Julián Carrón, born in 1950 in Spain, is a Catholic priest and theologian. Ordained in 1975, he obtained a degree in Theology from Comillas Pontifical University. Carrón has held professorships at prestigious institutions, including the Catholic University of the Sacred Heart in Milan. In 2004, he moved to Milan at the request of Fr. Luigi Giussani, founder of Communion and Liberation. Following Giussani's death in 2005, Carrón became President of the Fraternity of Communion and Liberation, a position he held until 2021. Known for his work on Gospel historicity, Carrón has published extensively and participated in Church synods, meeting with both Pope Benedict XVI and Pope Francis.

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Rise and Do Not Be Afraid